Documentary- One day in Africa

I came across this recent interview on vagablogging about Brook Silva- Braga, documentary film maker of,  A Map for Saturday, about his new film,  One day in Africa. If you haven’t had the chance to see A map for Saturday I highly suggest it if you’re itching to travel or curious what it’s like to pack up your bags and hit the road for an extended amount of time.

His philosophy behind the film is great and I appreciate his willingness to really understand and appreciate Africa. From my own experience in Africa, most people don’t go to the continent purely for travel and exploration but rather a purpose such as teaching, volunteering or interning and many who do travel are there for such a short time, it can be hard to really grasp what’s going on and why.  I love his idea for shadowing a person for a day in different countries without focusing on the  negatives the continent is so often known for.

I can also relate to the “safety” issue.  People I share my story with are always very surprised I felt so safe and nothing happened to me. Recently, an elderly woman said I must have had “good karma” to be able to travel for 9 months without any problem. I appreciate the thought (considering she doesn’t know me) but I know it’s more than just having positive energy and heaps of common sense. To not acknowledge all the wonderful people I encountered is to discredit the locals who make each African country unique. If the people were bad or with ill intent, no matter how much “good karma” I had, I would have had a lot of problems. This is a great reminder of why the media isn’t the greatest for understanding another country and is one of the very reasons I set of on my trip in the first place: to be an eye witness on the continent without any filters or lenses.

He also highlights the Westernization of Africa. I noticed it too and now feel more confused about the complex issue of globalization, foreign aid and volunteering. Does it help? Hinder?  The answer is neither black or white, depends on each situation and is quite complex!

Fear

Life has been a roller coaster ride since returning home. Bumpy, curvy, sideways, upside down, over and up and down and it has yet to  let up. The speed changes constantly but there’s no chance of the coaster slowing down just enough for me to get off. In the end, it’s exactly how it needs to be. At every new curve, I gain more awareness and new direction on where I’d like to go, where I’d  like to be.  I finally feel I have more control and new ideas for what I’d like in my life and more specifically, what I’d like to be doing.  Yet just when I feel comfortable enough to put my arms in the air for the upcoming drop; something changes, stalls or completely disappears. I’m getting closer and closer to the goal but I’m not quite there yet.

I strongly believe in the power of thoughts and creating what I have in my life.  Recently, I thought everything was falling into place and then something changes. I’m beginning to realize something may be missing in my thought pattern? How I can get so close and then (paid) opportunities don’t pan out? Sure, there not meant to be and I definitely believe it but how much of it is the opportunity is not right vs. my thoughts and fears influencing the outcome. Though, I do have to say a few volunteer opportunities have been turning up and I couldn’t be more excited. I acknowledge them and am ever so grateful. It’s only been a few months since I’ve had more concrete ideas and direction so it’s only a matter of time before it all falls into place. Deep down, I know everything so far has been for the best even if it doesn’t seem so in the moment.

Recent circumstances lead me to a long, emotional and much needed discussion, though I had no idea where it would lead or uncover so much.  My biggest fear resurfaced- a fear I was strongly aware of a month into my African journey. What am I going to do when I return home?  What about a career?  What do I want to do with my life? All the typical and important questions we all face at some point after college or mid twenties. Heck, I’m sure its a continual question, especially for us travelers who are more lifestyle focused. But more importantly, the question is: What’s my new dream? What comes next? Eight months home and I have yet to confront and tackle my fear, which is why it still lingers! Facing fear is half the battle, repressing or ignoring is another.

A month into my journey, I felt I was destined to come home between holidays, homesickness and feeling everyone I met on the road advised me “Africa is not safe for a woman traveling alone.” I was determined to prove to myself I could handle all the challenges, but more importantly I wondered, what the heck would I do when I returned?

My dream was to travel Africa and I had no idea what else I’d do. I figured a new dream would take shape eventually but until then, I couldn’t just return home when the road became too difficult or could I? I grappled with the concept but knew I’d regret packing my bags and not giving my dream a full chance. My uncertainty and lack of a new dream sustained me and encouraged me to press on, in the most challenging of circumstances but as with any good story I was able to rise above and meet people who shaped my journey just when I needed them to complete my dream.

New ideas and dreams are taking shape but like most dreams, they need time and patience to be fully realized.  Through my continual transition I’m realizing I expect I should know what I want and then be able to attain it, forgetting sometimes it’s best to jump in and learn to swim than waiting at the pool’s edge for the opportune time.  There is no outlined path. There isn’t a right or wrong way. I assume I should have life all figured out and just be able to flow into life-with a great job, new place, wonderful friends- easily after such a long time away. Truth is, transitioning isn’t an easy feat and it’s a constant process.

I just got to throw myself into the world again, let go of my comfort zone (home) and give living on my own in the “real world” a try. What’s the worst that can happen? I know the worst isn’t so bad.

Planting seeds

The past few weeks have caught me in an unsuspected whirlwind of activity and I couldn’t be more grateful. Life has  picked up speed and I’m enjoying the ride. So why a sudden change?

I’ve decided to follow my interests and passions while trying to throw my worries, hesitations and cautions to the wind. Putting stress and concerns aside is challenging but worth every effort in the short and long term.  Letting go in every way is the hardest part but I find when I stop trying to control and predict the future, life is a lot easier.  I’ve been identifying my new goals, dreams and ideas and trying to put societal and/or family expectations aside and it’s making all the difference.

While in South Africa, I was disappointed to rarely see  amazing first grade produce available in grocery stores and to the typical consumer. Almost all first grade produce is picked and immediately exported to countries willing to pay the highest price. Unfortunately, every equation involving products and consumers ends with whose offering the most money. Yet food production is a bit more complex and the end result shouldn’t simply be about money, or at least the people receiving the most profit are not necessarily the ones most deserving or hardest working.

I promised myself, when I returned home, I’d read Michael Pollan’s account of the US farming industry and food production in The Ominvores’s Dilemma. He’s insightful and educational with a dose of humorous commentary to highlight the politics and greed in feeding America. Now that I’m in the middle of reading it, I’m happy to know it was available in many book store shelves in South Africa as well as Barbara Kingsolver’s, wonderful account of living for a year on her families farm in rural Vermont and living within the seasons and eating what’s available from their farm and neighboring farmers, limiting their food access to 100 mile radius.   A great book worth the read for the curious on if its possible or you want a better understanding of what it means to eat locally and seasonally,  having your own garden/farm and inspiration to eat more sustainably.  It’s easier than you think.

After several months of uncertainty-wanting to know what’s next yet wanting to be ready for anything- a friend suggested I get involved with local gardens since I kept having the dream to find a place similar to Bulungula lodge. I hesitated rattling on about not knowing what I was going to do and I didn’t want to Commit if I could potentially be leaving at any moment. Except weeks and months kept passing me by and not too much was happening and I realized, maybe she had a point. I had to start somewhere. While researching something for herself pertaining to gardening, she forwarded me a list of helpful links and the rest sort of fell into place.  I searched further and found a nearby community garden wanting volunteers so on impulse  I emailed both contacts listed and inquired. Both contacted me within a few hours and within a few days, I was given a tour of the garden by the Master Gardener. It felt so natural to be in the garden. I’d found my place.  I don’t have a set schedule. I show up when I can or when the gardener tells me he’ll be there. I love when he’s there because I learn an incredible amount every time and we always seem to have random discussions about the food industry or what’s really important in life.

Working alongside someone whose passionate about what they know and so willing to share inspires me. He started the garden2 years ago and spends countless hours maintaining it- weeding, planting, building planter boxes, composting, watering and creating new innovative methods. He even hosts free workshops as a way to share and give back to the community.

When I’m in the garden, I’m reminded to follow my heart. Life is easier this way.

Detached from city life

my sentiment of the city by the bay- San Francisco- has changed. I dreamed of living in the city, sharing a flat with roommates and having a favorite cafe and neighborhood restaurant I’d frequent often. Over the years my knowledge of the city has grown, knowing a variety of places to eat, hang out and spend the evening dancing the night away. The city  has become so familiar I know how to navigate from one side to the other even in areas I rarely spend time in.

Upon returning to California, I was excited to spend more time in the city, find new locales and fun spots and up until  a few weeks ago, I took every chance I got. I met new people, checked out parades, festivals and music events- all typical and off the map San Franciscan festivities. I feel at this point, I’ve experienced almost every SF event.

On no particular recent time in SF, I noticed the magical feel I’ve being in the city had disappeared. My heart didn’t dance with joy and my enthusiasm didn’t shine. Being in SF, just felt like, well,  normal, typical, everyday, no longer exceptional and exciting. This feeling began a few weeks ago and it’s lingered. I have friends in the city so still have and motivation to go and spend time with them but my eagerness to “be in the city” has dissipated. Why do I feel detached? Would I feel more excited to be in a new city? Do I long for the feeling of  discovery a new place brings? Or has my tolerance for crowds, skyscrapers and traffic altered my feelings and no matter what urban city I was in, I’d feel the same way?

Certainly while I was on the road I became more appreciative of the Bay Area and all the amazing opportunities here, beautiful places to see and now it’s just the same for me. I appreciate the vibe, the laid-back attitude and the freedom and flexibility of open-mindedness that is the city.

Yet I think I’m ready to be more outdoors and in touch with nature than urban landscapes. I’ve been remembering a bus ride  from Cambridge to London while living there and realizing as much as I love cities for all the possibilities I could see myself living in the country side, being content around nature and a slower pace of life. Luckily, among suburbia and the city, there are still many open spaces to walk, hike and get lost in the outdoors and temporarily forget where I am. My job search feels very long and in these uncertain times, its only  natural and yet the more time passes and the more opportunities I apply for, I feel closer to knowing what it is I truly want.

Every thing has a reason in life and if this is the reason, then this constant wave of uncertainty will be worthwhile.

For this I’m grateful.

Transitioning is a multi-faceted process

I like to believe my transition home, to California, was relatively smooth and easy but I think I’m just forgetting the difficulties. I was restless after 2 weeks back home so I did what I knew best after 9 months vagabonding in Africa- Travel. I flew to Vancouver to visit a great aunt and had a great time until I arrived in Seattle and stayed with couch surfers who were only semi-hospitable about having me stay. It was a pivoting point for me knowing as much as I love being on the road, the difficulties of being in new places (not knowing anyone, figuring out transport, where to go etc), isn’t worth the effort when I’m burnt out.

Five months later I feel adjusted being home but am I? I’m looking the job market dead in the eye. I didn’t think too much of it a few months ago, assuming when I felt ready I’d apply to a few interesting places and Ta-Da, I’d land a nice job. My fantasy of job searching has yet to manifest in everyday life in this downturn economy. “Remotely interesting” has become my minimal criteria for applying but it’s forced me to think beyond my intentions- moving to San Francisco, having roommates and having a decently paid job in a beautiful city.

On the road, I witnessed variations of off the beaten path opportunities and I embraced it fully. Until I returned home. The freedom and the lifestyle I love by being on the road seems to be lost o me and I’ve temporarily forgotten my own philosophy- “defying convention.” I’ve taken on traditional ways of living and earning an income but secretly know there are alternatives, many I’d be apt to try.

I’ve had the dream of volunteering on a farm, since my return but I keep pushing the idea to the far corners of my mind. WWOOF is the perfect network to work on a farm with room and board in exchange, but I’m assuming fluffing the bank account is a smarter decision so I have freedom when an opportunity or idea strikes. What I really hoped for was to work on a sustainable lodge in California similar to a place I stayed for a week in South Africa- Bulungula lodge . My google searches haven’t proven successful but I have stumbled across farm apprenticeships and the more I contemplate, the more it seems a perfect fit. Yet I’ve initially denied my thoughts thinking any job without a 30+ hr work week was not allowed. But by whose standards?

The economy in shambles may just be a very blessing for me. The lack of career opportunities is allowing me to follow my heart rather than having family and societal ideas influence what I think I SHOULD do.

Transitioning home is more than getting used to big shopping malls and grocery stores with every item imaginable, it’s also about remembering all that you learn on the road and following your intuition.

For all of you, who’ve taken off on a big trip and returned home, I wonder: How was your transition? How long before you started looking for a job? got a job? How did you deal with the should’s vs. the wants? Have you put your travels behind you or on hold? Or are you doing something related to or inspired by your travels?

This year round, home for the holidays

Christmas has been flooding the newspapers and TV with ads offering great deals enticing folks to spend money they rather conserve or pay bills with instead. Christmas songs buzz through my head and aromas of cookies and pies fill my home and yet I refuse to believe it’s a few days from now. My minimal shopping has been done but my craftiness in making wearable creations for gifts has yet to be finished. I can get it done within the day as long as energy and inspiration sustain me. I just can’t understand where December disappeared too.

A year ago, I was roaming the humid streets of Moshi, Tanzania, my only clue Christmas was upon me was the few shops selling Christmas lights, cheap ball ornaments or a few short x-mas trees. Occasionally, I’d walk into a little shop and here the classic jingle over the radio of snow falling and chestnuts roasting, and knowing I was furthest from the picturesque holiday scene.

On Christmas eve, stomach pains unbearable, I mustered all my energy and walked a few blocks to a store I knew sold all 5 items I needed- a few candy bars, crackers and Amarula,  South Africa’s version of Bailey’s made with  Amarula fruit, a fruit elephants love. I wore my green sarong lightly around my waist and a black t-shirt(which was more see through than it should be).  I waited in line and prayed for customers to move quickly through the line. I wanted to scream, “Hurry up” but I knew it wouldn’t help. I’d just be given quizzical look of “what’s wrong with the woman muzungo?”

I managed somehow and the moment I stepped out of the store, I sat down with my brown bag of goods. People gave double takes or just stared, curious what I was doing sitting out side the store. I no longer cared if I was blending in at the moment, I felt awful- hot flashes and my stomach doing gymnastics. When I felt I had a bit of energy to pick myself up, I did and patiently got myself back to home- my tiny room at the backpackers. I know I took a nap, hoping I’d feel better to share in the merriment of Christmas eve but I didn’t. I just pretended I felt better.

Hostel staff and travelers gathered around for a good time and then we hit the regular bar/club. I was in no shape to be dancing or being out but I went anyhow.  I don’t remember too many of the details but I remember my stomach shared it’s thoughts with the pavement a few moments before getting into a taxi to come home.

This year I’m happy to be home, in the presence of family and friends. I refuse to wrap myself around consuming and do my best not to be part of the wasteful system. It’s great to be home. My only concern is what comes next but time will ultimately tell, as it always does.

Let’s go shopping- NO THANKS

I like to think I’ve adjusted well to living life in the US after being away for so long. Yet I find some things I never really thought too much before just get me out of sorts or overwhelmed. I’ve been resisting Christmas shopping  mainly because I don’t want to be a participant in our ever encouraging and dependent economy on consuming. When did Christmas become more about buying gifts than about enjoying quality time with family? Stores would like us to believe their strong marketing campaigns a lovely new coat or jewelry will have their loved ones head over heels but I know it’s rarely true. All a manipulation on our emotions to think we NEED things rather than good times spent with people we care about.

I decided one way to resist consumerism while still giving is to make gifts! It’s a perfect combination of letting my creativity flow and not spending a lot of money on stuff- I think, someone may enjoy. While traveling, I found myself wanting little creative projects-  I sewed fabric onto my green hat (leftover fabric from several clothes I had tailored for me, hat got lost a week before I came home), made a collage cover for my 2nd journal and collected sea shells I anticipated turning into jewelry. Now the beautiful shells are a wonderful reminder of my stays in coastal towns in South Africa and our waiting to be wearable art. When I finally made it to a bead shop, my inspiration was lost. In the city, I found myself with more things to do and allowed myself to to think too complexly with my jewelry project rather than being simple. It’s always easier to be simple when you don’t have many options.

Which brings me back to going shopping. The moment I walk into a department store, I immediately have the urge to turn around and run out the door. I’m overwhelmed with so many choices, so many lights, and so many possibilities. Last night, after a week of planning and encouraging (from my mom), my mom, my bro’s GF and I went Christmas shopping. My energy felt drained and my patience and interest was minimal.  trying on clothing seemed more effort than it’s worth. I know for myself I have to be in the mood to shop but my desire to shop or be in a store for any longer than 10 minutes is gone.  In past years, I enjoyed the process of thinking up great possibilities, looking, shopping and wrapping gifts; now it seems it’s more tortourous than pleasurable.

Its weird to think my journey in Africa would have such a profound effect but apparently there is no denying it has. My last 3 months on the continent I was exposed to first world shopping malls-it was nice but also overwhelming.  A  comfort to have access to everything if I wanted. Ultimately, this is what it comes down to. Knowing I could get whatever I needed made me less apt to search or go to stores but in Eastern Africa where I had less access made me happy to have all my necessary items with me.

I managed for so long with little and though I enjoyed the few times when I bought used clothing in the markets and loooked forwared to the opportunity to get dressed up and have my wardrobe when I returned, it all seems unfounded The fantasy was more exciting than the actual experience. I have a closet full of clothing and I likely where the same 3 jeans, 5 tshirts or sweaters.  Occasionally, I switch it up by pulling something new out of my closet. It’s a great way to save money or rather not spend. I just go shopping my own closet.  I’m content with what I have and with so much possibility my want for something new isn’t so high.  Meanwhile, a friend contemplates she may have a clothes shopping addiction.

Change

I’m sitting at a favorite coffee shop, a cozy space where they serve your coffee or tea in a mug on first impulse not a paper cup, in my hometown. I try to write all the memories and stories that flood my mind at any given time of day but taking the time to sit down for 30 min or an hour a day keeps passing me by. I figure if I go to cafe, it sort of gives me a purpose and ultimately focus. It’s still easy to be distracted.

Anyhow, while trying to focus, a group of fifty or so high schoolers walked down the street with signs against changing the constitution to only allow men and women to marry, “Love= Equality”, “I support gay marriage,” “No on Prop 8″ etc. Instant smile on my face. It’s great to see young people (younger than me) taking a stand. I found it funny that most of them were dressed with bright tie die shirts, peace signs or some nostalgia clothing that make you instantly think “hippie era.” Love, change and equality is something we are all capable of without evoking a specific time period or generation. It seems these days the word hippie has so many connotations and ideals, and often not in the most positive sense. It’s unfortunate.

I know Prop 8- changing the constitution to state marriage is only between a man and a woman- isn’t going to die. It’s going to keep on coming back at us until we accept gay marriage. I have to say I was quite shocked myself, it didn’t pass but I do forget that I live in one of the  more open minded areas of California so it’s easy to forget there are so many people out there that aren’t as open or willing to see other possibilities. I also tend to forget the power religion has.

I feel proud to live in the U.S.

I watched the election unravel on election day eagerly awaiting the results of what our future would hold for the next four years. I’m not at TV watcher but I found myself tuning in throughout the day excited but nervous fro what this election meant.

It’s no surprise at my elation when CNN was quick to announce they’re projection Obama won Ohio. Significant as no Republican in history has ever won an election without the state of Ohio. The results continued to trickle in and it became clearer and clearer Obama would succeed. I felt great.

The following morning I woke up happy and with a renewed spirit. I feel happy to be an American. I feel proud to be an American. I’ve never really felt proud of my country before but I feel Obama has given me a new sense of hope and inspiration. He’s calm and insightful. I’m impressed with his ability to articulate his thoughts so clearly and graciously;  he’s a motivational speaker. He’s what America needs in the White House.

I feel saddened by those who have become cynical or quickly want to jump and say Obama is still a democrat and has stances on many issues aren’t that different. Obama is symbolic of hope and change. Change always begins small. We must remember this and yet Obama being elected is huge change. America is back on track in the right direction.

Having traveled enough I realize how much America’s politics affects the entire world. This election wasn’t only for us Americans tired of the same broken rhetoric it was for the entire world. Obama as President elect shows everyone living on this Earth that anything and everything is possible brings an amazing amount of hope. I can only imagine the excitement on Kenyan’s, Tanzanian’s, Africans worldwide smiling in joy and happiness.

Throughout my travels, I was consistently asked who I thought would be president. Republican candidates were rarely mentioned as it seemed everyone knew the two Democrats- Hilary or Barack were the most significant, especially in terms of history in the making. I was impressed at people’s knowledge but with the amount of TV available maybe I shouldn’t hae been. I liked the idea of Hilary at the time but you can only imagine, most Africans I encountered voiced thier vote and hope for Barack.

I remember watching a special on the candidates running Democrats: Hilary Clinton, Barak Obama, John Edwards, Dennis Kucinich; Republicans: John McCain, Mitt Romney, Mike Huckabee, Rudy Guiliani. I watched this special in a convent in the beautiful Lushoto mountains in North Western Tanzania having hiked for 2 days, 14 miles. I was a bit stunned to be so far from the world and yet had access to TV and the newspaper. How far the nearest road was, I don’t know but I was truly far away. It felt that way.

It brought it home how significant our elections and our decisions do impact everywhere else. Even small villages that seem to be so far away.

A video clip- Surviving Joburg

The weather is turning mildly chilly and the overcast and rainy days have arrived.

I’ve been reminiscing of my African journey lately!

A couchsurfer whom I stayed with in Joburg recently created  “an 8-minute promo called “Surviving Joburg.”

http://www.vimeo.com/1666236
(those with patience or fast connections can switch HD on and enjoy)

I loved the trailer and fully relate to all the tension, fear, worry, craziness, direction of the country and a bit of love for what is Joburg. I was scared to visit Joburg after 3 months of both locals and travelers in South Africa telling me not go- It’s ugly and dangerous, they said. Luckily, I went anyway and stayed with Stephen who is very knowledgeable about his beautiful country- South Africa- as well as his city of Joburg.

We both agreed it’s not as bad as everyone makes it out to be. Too many people perpetuate the fear.

Enjoy!